


Cave-In

by MontanaHarper



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Aftermath of Amnesia, Angst, M/M, Present Tense, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/MontanaHarper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He doesn't want to consider what it says about his life that getting an old-fashioned blackjack to the skull is the <strong>better</strong> option.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cave-In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elynross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynross/gifts).



> We have so many of the same thoughts and feelings about Duke/Nathan; getting this request was like being asked to write a story that I'd want to receive. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write something I love!
> 
> Takes place sometime in between "Sarah" and "Burned."

When Duke comes to, his head is pounding like a bastard. He's lying in semi-darkness, with gritty stone ice cold under his cheek, and the last thing he remembers is parking at the Gull and leaving Nathan at a table outside while he headed in to grab them some burgers. He'd think he got whammied by the latest Trouble, if not for the fact that he's still got the rest of his memories, from the blurry flashes of walking to school with his mother on the first day of kindergarten up through this morning's worried phone call from Audrey. 

He doesn't want to consider what it says about his life that getting an old-fashioned blackjack to the skull is the _better_ option.

When he tries to roll onto his side and lever himself upright, the world spins dizzyingly and goes pitch black.

His head is still pounding like a bastard when he comes to again. This time he goes more cautiously, letting things settle once he's on his side and then again once he's made it to hands and knees. He's gotten as far as sitting back on his heels and figuring out that he's in a cave when he hears a door open and then a figure comes crashing to the ground almost on top of him.

He's in a cave _with a door in it_. Of course he is. 

Then the figure rolls over, and he realizes he's in a cave with a door in it _with Nathan_. Nathan, who is not going to be any help at all, because he did get whammied by the latest Trouble.

Duke leans forward and calls Nathan's name softly, running one hand through Nathan's hair to feel for head wounds and flattening the other on his chest, relieved by the steady beat of Nathan's heart under his palm. He's not prepared to be shoved away, but he manages to steady himself anyway, and not end up sprawled on his ass.

"Fuck off, Crocker," Nathan says, and the words feel particularly harsh to Duke after a day spent with the relaxed and friendly amnesiac version of Nathan.

"And there's the Nathan we all know and love," he says, aware that he's pushing and not really caring a whole lot. "Kind and gentle to a fault, only kicks puppies on alternate Wednesdays. I'm guessing you have your memories back?" He sure as hell hopes so, because that means Audrey's set things right and maybe someone will be looking for them sooner rather than later.

Nathan sits up. "Sorry to ruin your fun."

And okay, see, this is the thing: Duke knows exactly when to keep his mouth shut to avoid escalating things with Nathan. The flip side of that, though, is that he also knows exactly what to say in order to make things worse.

"Because hosting the Nathan Wuornos edition of 'This Is Your Life' is my idea of a great time," Duke says, getting to his feet and offering a hand to Nathan, who ignores it. "I could've been helping Audrey with the latest Trouble, but no, I got saddled with babysitting duty." 

He heads in the direction of the only light in the place, which is apparently coming from an actual, honest-to-God flaming torch stuck in a ring that's bolted to the cave wall a couple of feet to the right of the door. The door itself looks like your average residential exterior door: made of wood, with a deadbolt and a locking knob. Given enough time and the right tools, Duke could probably pick the locks. Or maybe between the two of them, he and Nathan could just break it down.

Assuming there aren't a dozen gun-wielding kidnappers on the other side of it, that is; they really have no way of knowing.

Nathan is standing now, but otherwise he hasn't moved. "Who did you piss off?"

"Aside from you, apparently?" Duke shrugs. "I have no idea. They came up behind me and knocked me out. I never saw them."

In the other direction, the cave narrows down to about three feet wide, and there are a handful of rough steps cut into the rock floor. They end in a pile of rubble—the result of some kind of cave-in?—that completely blocks what looks like the only other exit. Duke works a couple of rocks free, but that only reveals larger ones. They're really and truly trapped.

He paces back toward the middle of the cave, rolling his shoulders and trying to ignore the way the cold and the darkness press in on him. It's not rational, he knows that, but that doesn't stop the scrape like broken glass sliding along under his skin.

"Honestly, Nathan, I can't think of anything specific I've done."

"Smuggling, trafficking in stolen goods, illegal gambling, adultery—" Nathan sounds like he's reciting from an extensive mental list.

"I haven't had a chance to allegedly do any of that lately. The last couple of months I've spent so much time working with you and Audrey that I'm thinking I should get a badge and a gun and a salary from the Haven Police Department." He pauses to consider. "Officer Duke Crocker. My dad's probably spinning in his grave at the thought. Which is actually a pretty good argument in favor of it."

"Over my dead body."

Duke grins at him. "And there's another good argument in favor of it." He's expecting Nathan to roll his eyes, but instead his expression closes off. "I can't think of anyone who has it in for me," Duke continues more seriously. "I'm telling the truth." 

"You don't know how," Nathan says. "Lying by omission is still lying."

"What do you think I'm omitting?"

"I remember everything about today." It sounds like a non-sequitur, but after a second Duke realizes Nathan means it as an accusation, like he thinks Duke was intentionally withholding information earlier, when Nathan's memory was affected by the latest Trouble.

"I repeat: what do you think I'm omitting? I told you what I know about your life. Hell, I opened with the fact that you hate me, and I gave you a detailed list of the reasons why. I told you about the tacks, I told you about the thing with your shoelaces and about throwing you off the end of the pier in November and about running your backpack up the flagpole. I even told you about the locker full of shaving cream, which you never figured out was me. And I told you I was sorry for all of it." He spreads his hands in front of him. "I told you everything, Nathan."

"Not everything," Nathan says, and then he's in Duke's face, crowding him back against the uneven stone and kissing him, rough and angry and it's not at all what Duke expected him to do. Duke’s hands come up automatically, cupping Nathan’s jaw. It's painfully familiar but different at the same time, and it drains all the frustration and anger out of him. "Not everything," Nathan repeats, pulling away like if he can put some distance between them then the kiss will never have happened.

"Nate–"

"Don’t call me that."

"Nate," Duke says again, because there are times when he can give in and let Nathan push him away, and times when he really can’t. "We don’t…talk about that. We’ve _never_ talked about that. What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, we also stealth dated for a few weeks in high school, until you invited Hannah Driscoll to the prom'?"

"We didn't date," Nathan says flatly. "You set me up to be a joke and I figured it out before you got to the punch line."

And that's so very far from what really happened that Duke doesn't even know how to respond. Nathan's watching him with cold eyes, his arms crossed and his body tense like he's challenging Duke to deny it. 

Duke opens his mouth. "We had sex!" is what comes out. It's not what he meant to say, but it's actually a pretty good argument, now that he thinks about it. "Okay, granted, it was only a couple of mutual handjobs and one truly spectacular blowjob—"

"I wouldn't say spectacular."

"Oh, I definitely remember you using words like spectacular—" Nathan's eyes narrow and Duke cuts himself off. "Okay, now is not the time. I get that. Moving on. What I'm trying to say is, do you really think I'd go that far for a prank?"

Nathan doesn't say anything, but Duke can read the answer in his expression.

"You do," he says, shocked. "You really do. You think I'm that big an asshole, that I'd— Just to...what? What did you think my end game was?"

"Oh, I don't know," Nathan says, jaw tight, "humiliate me at prom in front of the whole school? Sorry to ruin that for you. You and your friends get some laughs at my expense, at least?" 

Duke clenches his fists. He wants to hit something, but anything in here would probably break his hand. Anything other than Nathan, and Nathan won't feel it and will just hit back, which might be satisfying in the short term, but won't do either of them any good in the long term. Plus, Duke can just picture Audrey's expression when she finds them, knuckles bloody and bodies bruised; he hates it when she looks disappointed in him.

He shoves past Nathan instead. "Fuck you." The area where he'd been prying rocks loose earlier is probably a good place to begin working through his anger. Besides, at least one of them should be thinking about finding a way out of here. 

For a few minutes there's nothing but irregular scraping and thuds as Duke fights to expand the hole he'd started, and then Nathan's there, too, working shoulder to shoulder with him. After about half an hour Duke's knuckles are skinned bloody and his fingertips are raw, but they've got an opening wide enough for a man, and it extends a couple of feet into the rockfall. Beyond that it's mostly boulders that are going to be a bitch to move, but he can feel a regular flow of air from between some of them and he can smell the briny, fishy smell of the ocean.

Duke carefully hoists himself up and into the hole, the cave's ceiling only an inch or so above his head. He leans his full weight on the smallest of the boulders on the far side, but it doesn't shift. With a sigh, he says, "And that's not going anywhere." 

He turns around and sits, his back against the last, most stubborn obstacle. He aches pretty much from head to toe and he's tired—tired of this damned cave, tired of being angry at Nathan, and really tired of Nathan being angry at him.

"I'm sorry, Nate," he says quietly. "For all the things I did when we were eight and ten and twelve. For all the stupid, hurtful, little-kid things." A quick glance tells him Nathan's watching him warily. Duke looks away again, wipes his bloody hands on his pants and focuses on the sting of his skinned knuckles instead of the twisting ache in his chest. 

"But I'm not going to apologize for taking you up to the ledge. I'm not going to apologize for asking you out or kissing you or wanting your hands all over me. And I'm not going to apologize for the three weeks and four-and-a-half days we were together, because I'm not sorry and I don't regret it.

"You don't have to like it, and you don't have to like me, but it's the truth. I'm only sorry you don't believe it." 

Nathan doesn't say anything.

"We could try the door, I guess," Duke says finally. The torch is directly in his line of sight when he stares ahead, and so he focuses on it. "I'm guessing this is an old prohibition-era rumrunner's tunnel. There's probably a private cove on the other side of these rocks, and the door up there leads to someone's cellar. No guarantee we won't end up on the wrong end of an AK-47, though."

He's not sure what reaction he's expecting, but it sure as hell isn't Nathan saying, "You think your Trouble would make you strong enough to move those last rocks?" He holds up his hands, palm out, so Duke can see the blood that's oozing from multiple scrapes.

"When I shoved Dwight, he went flying at least thirty feet, so yeah, probably." Duke hesitates, a little off balance. "I didn't think that was an option you'd be willing to consider."

Nathan shrugs, the motion tight and a little awkward, but he says, "You have a better plan?" 

"Not really, no," Duke admits.

"You going to kill me?" 

"No!" 

"Okay, then." Nathan reaches out and covers Duke's hand with his own, fingers curling around to squeeze briefly before he lets go. Duke sucks in a breath as the rush of power hits him, and then Nathan's nodding toward the boulder. "Try now."

Duke shifts onto his knees, braces himself, and throws everything he's got into it. With a long, grating rumble, one of the two biggest rocks rolls away, showering him with pebbles in the process. A sudden gust of icy sea air hits him, and the sunlight is temporarily blinding. 

"Yes!" Duke allows himself a celebratory fist-pump. Score one for Haven's finest and zero for mysterious gun-wielding kidnappers; he definitely deserves the gun and badge and goddamned salary. 

He looks over his shoulder. Nathan is waiting, wearing an expression that's almost a smile. Duke reaches back and Nathan grabs his hand; Duke braces him as he climbs into the narrow space, and they stumble down the far side of the rockfall and out into daylight together.

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot possibly thank [**casspeach**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/casspeach) enough. She betas, cheerleads, holds my hand, and just is basically my lifeline when I'm writing.


End file.
